Open Book {Mark Lee Series}

Chapter 2

"Is it weird to text someone the same day you get their number?" Mark asked his best friend, Haechan.

"Well, how desperate do you want to look?" Haechan replied. "I mean, you may not want to come off as desperate as you really are."

Mark planted his face in both hands and let out a primal grunt. "I guess you're right," he reasoned, looking very disappointed as he placed his phone on the night stand. "I need to do something to get my mind off her," he announced as he stood and began running laps up and down the length of the small room.

"Could you tell me now if you plan to keep doing that?" Haechan asked pointedly. "Because I'm going to have to find somewhere else to be."

Mark stopped running. "No! Don't leave me!" he cried dramatically. "I'm not to be trusted with that phone! I'm in crisis here and you need to be my love guru who keeps me on the right path!"

Haechan sighed and looked at Mark's pained face. "Alright, now, listen," he began sternly. "Knowing what a dork you are, you've probably already messed up in some way during your first meeting," he reasoned. "Why make it worse by awkwardly texting her now and confirming your dork status so early in the relationship?"

"Man, you're freaking mean!" Mark exclaimed. "But you do have a point," he conceded. Grabbing a towel that was hanging on his bedpost, he said, "I'm going to take a shower. That will keep me away from the phone."

When he returned from his shower, Haechan had left the room and was in the kitchen helping Jaemin to make some kimchi fried rice. Mark sneaked out of the room, peeking around the corner into the small kitchen where Haechan was chopping kimchi and some green onion. Jaemin was stationed in front of a screaming hot pan waiting for the ingredients to be ready. He was shirtless and his washboard abs clenched nervously when Haechan threw the green onions into the hot oil.

Jaemin jumped back quickly. "Careful, dude! That hot oil just spit at me!"

"Well, if you'd wear a shirt like a normal person, you wouldn't get spattered with hot oil," reasoned Haechan.

From Mark's vantage point behind the wall, he could see that the two were definitely going to be busy for a while. It gave him the perfect moment to grab his phone when Haechan wouldn't see him and clown him about it.

He ran back to his room and flopped down on his bed. He lay his head directly on the bed --- no pillow. Pillows just made his neck feel weird. Pillows were in the category of the utterly anathema, along with ketchup and seafood.

He grabbed his phone and clicked on Clara's name. The cursor blinked at him, waiting for him to write something. He didn't usually have trouble writing. He had even thought he might be an author when he grew up --- or an ice cream man. Either one would have been delightful in its own way. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen for a second before he typed something in quickly and hit send before he could overthink it.

Within seconds, his phone buzzed. Clara had responded! But her response was less than encouraging.

"What the actual hell? Who asks about someone's Harry Potter house in their first text?" she had written.

He was invested now. So, he took a deep breath and continued. "Mine's Hufflepuff, in case you wanted to know," he revealed.

"Same," was her one-word reply.

"Hey, at what age did you stop believing in Santa?" he texted back.

Clara peered through her black-framed glasses into the phone. "OK, this is officially the weirdest texting exchange I've ever participated in," she concluded. It appeared he was hoping to get to know her through 20 questions. "Alright, I'll bite," she said aloud, despite being alone in the apartment. She texted back, "I never believed in Santa," which was, in fact, true. Her parents were super religious and refused to allow her to believe in fantastical characters like Santa and the Easter Bunny.

"Twinsies again!" he wrote into his phone gleefully. "We have so much in common!" he continued. "I never believed in Santa either. I used to make the other kids cry because I would tell them I didn't believe in Santa."

"That's funny," Clara replied. "I did the exact same thing. But it annoyed me when they cried. I thought they were such babies to believe in Santa. I feel like I was never a baby. I just came out of the womb fully-grown mentally. My mom said I refused to talk baby talk."

Just then, Haechan entered the room unexpectedly. Mark tried to hide the phone under his shirt, but it was too late. Haechan had already caught him in his sin.

"What are you doing?" he yelled grabbing at Mark's shirt, trying to extract the instrument of evil.

"No!" yelled Mark as he writhed on the bed, trying to evade Haechan's quick hands. It was all to no avail because Haechan quickly found the rectangular bulge in Mark's shirt and pulled out the phone. He studied it for a few seconds, finally concluding, "This is bad, dude! This is really bad." Haechan began to type into the phone feverishly. Mark tried to grab for it but didn't retrieve the phone until his friend's text had already been sent.

"What did you text her?" Mark shrieked.

"Look, man, I'm trying to help you," Haechan defended. "Your texts were ridiculous, dude! Do I have to watch you all the time?" he bemoaned.

"Well, whatever you said, she's gonna think it came from me!" Mark complained.

"Exactly," Haechan replied triumphantly. "I am trying to save your ass, here. A little gratitude would not be amiss," he groused.

Mark finally held the phone still enough to read what Haechan had texted in his stead. "I've got you on the brain, girl. You're just way too damn sexy for your own good!"

"What the hell?" Mark screamed. I would never have texted something like that so soon. Now, she's gonna be pissed and think I'm a freaking pervert. She already has something against Christian guys. Now, I have another mark against me!"

"Mark against you," laughed Haechan at his friend's unintentional wordplay. "You worry too much. Girls these days are very forward. They aren't easily offended. And if you don't go for it quickly, you get friend zoned out of the gate. You have to be clear about your intentions or she won't take you seriously. You'll just be the guy she calls when she's moving or needs a ride to the airport. Do you want to be that guy?" Haechan challenged.

"No, of course not, but I don't want to be the guy who is pushy and objectifies her either. And that's where your text puts me. So, thanks for that," Mark muttered.

Haechan shrugged and walked out the door. On his way down the hall, he screamed back, "You'll be thanking me when it works."

"Damn it!" Mark cursed, staring at his phone. "If I text her back and say it wasn't me, she'll think I'm lying. But if I let her think it was me, she might think I'm a pervert." Mark raked his fingers through his hair. "Well, I'd better clean up this mess," he concluded.

Just then, his phone buzzed. The reply was only two words, but they made Mark breathe a sigh of relief. There on the screen was the notification that simply said, "Damn straight!"

Mark would live to fight another day!